


Collar de Jour

by Hime_no_Kowai_Shumi



Category: NCIS
Genre: F/F, Femslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-05 01:18:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12180072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hime_no_Kowai_Shumi/pseuds/Hime_no_Kowai_Shumi
Summary: Work hazard or not, there was something that Jen found fascinating about Abby's collars.





	Collar de Jour

**Collar de Jour**

It’s just after 0600 when she makes her way into the building. The quiet of the night was just starting to die down, the sun due to rise at 0630. As she makes her way past the security desk, she catches sight of the sign-in sheet. She pauses, catches the loopy signature out of the corner of her eye, and lets out an inaudible sigh.

Her first stop when she enters the elevator isn’t her office like she’d been planning but rather to the Forensics lab. She hears the music as the elevator doors open; she doesn’t see the Gothic scientist as she heads to the cd player, lowering the volume to a less ear-splitting decibel.

“Hey!” from below the mass spectrometer, Abby’s head comes up quickly, too quickly, and she winces in sympathy as the top of her head collides with the table, “ _Ow_!” Rubbing her head, the scientist turns towards her, “I was listening to –” she pauses as she realizes who she’s talking to, “Oh, Director Shepard.”

“Abby,” she greets, sweeping her eyes over the woman’s wardrobe. A white button up with a skull on the pocket, black jeans, and her signature pair of platforms. The collar resting around her throat gives her pause, her eyes immediately drawn to it. Six metal clips hold chains up in a _u_ shape, interweaving together. The thoughts that the collar invokes are neither fit of a woman in her position nor proper thoughts that she should have about a younger woman. She clears her throat, “you left this morning at 0300.”

“Yeah,” Abby explains, “I needed to get a shower and change of clothes. I’m still running fingerprints from Gibbs’ case yesterday.”

“Abby, it’s 0630. You should go home and get some sleep.”

“I was going to try to get a couple hours of sleep here but Major Mass Spec needed recalibrated.”

She holds back a sigh, tries a different tactic, “I’m sure we can find a temp to take over if you want to go home for a few hours.”

“I’m good to go, Director.”

“One of your pigtails is crooked.” It’s not, but it makes Abby move into her office to get a mirror.

When she realized this attraction, she tried everything she could to push it away. The dress code she implemented only served to make Abby angry, and Jethro had promised that if the scientist was forced to wear polyester, not only would the agency lose the best Forensic Scientist in the country, they’d never find someone as talented. So, she relented…and gave her an assistant. Charles Sterling turned out to be a delusional sociopath, determined to frame DiNozzo for murder. When Abby had figured it out, he’d tried to kill her. She was thankful the young woman had some fighting prowess. Her first two attempts failures, she did the only other thing she could think of and avoided the lab unless it was necessary.

The music is turned up slightly, and she blinks, finding Abby standing a few inches from her.

She smirks slightly, “Abby…”

“It’s not that loud now, Madame Director,” Abby replies with a pleased smile.

That smile makes her stomach flip, and she reaches out, looping her fingers through the chains of the collar, “These are a work hazard.” The blush that crawls onto Abby’s face makes her want to step closer, to kiss her lips, but the very-real fact is that they’re at work and anyone could walk in at any moment; she releases the chains, steps back, “I want it off before I come back down here for an update.”

“Yes, Director.”

* * *

 

She makes her way into the elevator, hitting the button for the 3rd floor. She hits the emergency switch once it starts moving, trying to banish all thoughts of the bubbly girl from her mind. She needed to focus on work. How many meetings would she get through if she kept thinking about Abby? She took a deep breath and then flipped the switch again.

When the elevator opens a floor below where she wanted, she thinks she made a mistake. Right until Jethro’s frame comes into view.

“Jen,” he greets.

“Jethro, you’re here early.”

“Heading down to Abby’s.”

“Ahh,” she wonders if she should tell him about the music, but she figures he’ll find out for himself. “Did you notice the sign in sheet this morning?” she asks instead.

“Mhmm,” he answers.

Maybe he’ll get through the Goth. She hopes he will...but then she sees the Caf-Pow in his right hand, his coffee in the other.

“She needs sleep, Jethro, not more caffeine.” He smirks, but she gets to her stop then and brushes past him, “Talk to her.”

 He gives a lazy salute with his coffee-filled hand, and she rolls her eyes.

* * *

 

It’s just after 2100 when she manages to get out of the last meeting of the day. Jethro’s case had gone from a simple murder/robbery into espionage and suspected-treason, and unfortunately the suspect had yet to be caught. The SecNav and SecDef both had to be read in, and that took a large chunk of time; the two men enjoyed firing off questions, expecting her not to be able to answer. _Smug bastards_. She needed coffee.

Cynthia met her at the door to her office, “Director, Deputy Director Morrow had to reschedule dinner tonight. And Agent Gibbs needed to see you; he’s waiting in your office.”

“Alright. Let Tom know we can reschedule next week. And you can go home after you’ve let him know.”

“Thank you, Director.”

She enters her office to see Jethro has taken up residence on her couch. She rolls her eyes, heads towards her desk, “Something you needed, Agent Gibbs?”

He stands and walks over to her, pressing something into her hand. Abby’s collar.

“This isn’t really my style, Jethro,” she says dryly.

“Abby told me that you ordered her to take it off.”

She smirks, “Oh?”

“Work hazard?” he questions.

“I’m not wrong.”

“She wears collars like this one all the time.”

“Not anymore,” she replies.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Jen,” he mutters against her ear, and then he was gone, the door swinging shut behind him.

The leather was still warm in her hand, the chains cool in her palm. She lets out a shaky breath, running a hand through her hair. Coffee could wait, she decides. For the second time that day, she takes the elevator down to the lab.

* * *

 

The lab is dead silent when she steps off the elevator, and for a moment, she wonders if Abby had already left. But the light in the back office are on. Her computer is still running, AFIS scanning for a fingerprint match, and she can hear the whirl of the mass spec. She finds Abby next to the desk, sound asleep on the futon. Her long hair obscures her face, and she kneels, brushes the strands away. Abby was always beautiful, and she’s struck by how young she looks when she sleeps. She’s playing with fire, she knows it, as she reaches out and strokes Abby’s cheek, just once before she pulls back. She stands, places the collar on the desk.

She turns to leave when she notices the blanket on the table. It’s a black throw, decorated with little skulls. She bites at her lip, debating. It wasn’t necessarily cold in the lab, Abby certainly hadn’t tried to use it, but it wouldn’t hurt to cover her up. She chanced a look towards the exit, listening for the elevator, before she grabs the blanket, tucking it around the sleeping scientist. Abby smiles in her sleep, snuggling into it.

_Too cute_.

She scolds herself for the thought, even as a blush rises to her cheeks. She takes one last look at the sleeping woman before leaving the lab. She heads back to her office, has Hector bring the car around, and hopes Noemi prepared dinner. By the time she gets home that night, she can almost push Abby from her mind. It’s not much of a surprise when she finds the Goth as the subject of her dreams that night.

* * *

 

Abby’s waiting in her office when she gets in the following morning. It’s not as early as she had the day before, this time a little after 0700. Abby’s dressed in another white shirt, a black vest covering it and a green, plaid skirt with high socks that cover to just a few inches below her knees. The skirt has a black belt adorned with loops and chains.

“I wanted to say thank you for bringing my collar back,” Abby was saying.

She feels her heartrate spike when she realizes that today’s collar has a similar loop as the belt, two sides tucked into the collar.

She blinked, moving to sit at her desk, “It’s not a problem, Abby. How is the AFIS search going?”

The Goth frowns, “Still running. I widened the search, so it’s just a waiting game.”

If she wanted to, she could pull her closer by that one loop.

“That’s the hardest part,” she looks up at the woman, trying to control her thoughts, “you’ll get the match.”

“Mhmm,” Abby yawns, covering her mouth, “I could really use a Caf-Pow.”

She smirks up at her teasingly, “Too much caffeine isn’t good for you.”

Abby smiles, “Next you’ll be telling me my music is too loud.”

“I did,” she replies, “Was that all?”

“Yeah,” Abby heads towards the door, “Oh, Madame Director,” she looks up at the bubbly woman, “I wouldn’t mind if you came down more often. You know, if you’re not busy.”

She somehow keeps the smile off her face, “I’ll keep that in mind, Abby.”

* * *

 

When she enters the lab just after 1300, Caf-Pow in hand, she doesn’t immediately see the Goth. The music is a bearable volume, and she looks in her office before catching movement in the ballistics lab.

“Abby…” she starts but immediately cuts herself off.

The large cross tattoo draws her eyes before Abby pulls on a new shirt, slipping it on at what feels like a torturous pace. She’s frozen like a deer in headlights, the moisture in her mouth moving south, and the ache in her thighs is enough to snap her out of her daze just before Abby turns around.

“Oh, Director,” Emerald eyes are sparked with a hint of fading annoyance, “you brought me a refill.”

“What?” she asks absentmindedly, before realizing that she’s still holding the Caf-Pow, “I figured you could use one.”

“Good timing too,” Abby says, brushing past her, “Tony and McGee were goofing off and made me spill the one Gibbs brought me all over my other shirt.” She has the irrational thought of going to scold the agents, “but Gibbs already took care of the punishment.” She nods, following Abby into the main part of the lab. “So,” Abby turns to her, sucking on the straw, “Was this the only reason you came down?”

She smirks, stands her ground, “You mentioned you wanted me to visit more often.”

“When you’re not busy,” Abby pointed out.

“I have a meeting in half an hour, Abby. I’m not busy now. But if you want me to go…” she trails off, starts to turn.

“No!” Abby grabs her arm, stepping into her space.

She’s standing far too close than she should be, close enough that she can see the specs of hazel in the Goth’s eyes. She has to force herself not to close the distance between their lips.

“Not going anywhere, Abbs,” the nickname slips out with her meaning to, and Abby smiles softly.

“Good.”

They really are standing far too close, she admonishes herself, but she can’t help the pull she has towards the young woman. Her hand comes out, catching the bottom of the loop on her collar and barely suppresses the urge to pull on it. Abby’s breath hitches.

“Better than yesterday’s,” she says, looking up into the now-dark emerald.

“Yeah,” Abby agrees distractedly.

The air is charged with sexual tension, she knows Abby can feel it, and the only thing she wants to do is kiss her. But they’re still at work, and they can’t. She can’t do this. Playing with fire is fine, but to fall willingly into the flames when she could get burned? She’s not sure she can do that.

“I’ve got to get to my meeting,” she releases the collar, steps back.

“Right,” Abby turns back to the computer, sipping at the Caf-Pow, “See you later, Madame Director.” Three times in the last two days is too many for a nickname she requested not be used.

She smirks, straightens her pantsuit, and heads towards the elevator. Jethro leans against the wall beside the door.

Startled, she frowns, “Don’t you have a case to run?”

“Was bringing Abby a refill,” he shakes the Caf-Pow in his hand lightly, “Seems someone already took care of it.”

Feeling slightly victorious, her smirk returns, “I needed to go for coffee anyway,” Entering the elevator, she turns to him as the doors start to close, “Jealousy doesn’t look good on you, Jethro.”

* * *

 

A package is sitting on her desk the following morning, a long black box decorated with painted red roses. For a moment, she considers opening it. It had obviously been scanned by security and left here. But it's early, and she has a meeting. She slips the package into her top drawer, grabs her coffee and heads to MTAC. 

When she sees Abby not long after the meeting ends, she's in the bullpen showing Gibbs and the team evidence. She overlooks from the catwalk, tries to ignore the pang of disappoint she gets when she realizes there's no collar around Abby's throat. She wonders when she developed this odd fetish for the material and decides it happened when she realized her attraction to the scientist. She sips her coffee, considers that maybe the package is indeed from the young woman, and heads back to her office to work on paperwork. 

She gets through a few hours of reading and signing reports before the nagging in the back of her mind gets to her. She pulls out the box, scans it for a card; finding none, she unwraps it. 

The collar is beautiful. The leather is good quality, simple in design, pure black with splashes of red intertwining. A scrap of paper falls into her desk when she lifts the material from the box. She opens it, feeling nervous and intrigued all at once. 

_I'm yours_

The words send a tremor through her. She needed to think this through. She knew what Abby was asking, but the question remained on whether she could deliver. Deep down, she knows what the answer is, even as she tries to think of every rational decision against it. She slips the collar into her pocket, leaving her office.

“Cynthia, hold my calls. I'll be in the lab.”

“Yes, Director.”

* * *

 

Abby looks up when she enters the lab but doesn't move from the chair in her office. She's not used to the lab being silent, not sure she likes it. She enters the office, hears the click of the lock behind her, raises an eyebrow in question. Abby merely shrugs in reply.

“Come here,” she requests. Abby obliges, stands a few feet away. “Closer.” When Abby's close enough that she can see the specs of hazel, she pulls out the collar, forces her hands not to shake as she slips it around the Goth's throat, securing it.

She takes a step back to admire the way it looks, reaches out to stroke her cheek. Abby's eyes close with a smile as she leans into the touch.

“Mine,” the word slips out without her meaning it to. 

“Always, Jen.”

She pulls her closer by the collar until they're a breath apart, breathing each other's air, “I'm going to kiss you now, Abby. Is that ok?”

“Please.”

Despite the strong desire she has, the kiss is chaste. She lets Abby's scent wash over her, pulling back slightly. Abby opens her eyes, looks at her with dilated pupils. A beat passes, two. And then she releases the collar, grasping the front of her shirt instead as she pulls her into a deeper kiss, and Abby whimpers into her mouth, kisses back. 

This time when she pulls away, she rests her forehead on the Goth's.

“Maybe collars aren't as much of a problem as I thought.” Abby grins, moving to kiss her again. “Your sleeping habits however...”

“I don't think I'll be getting much sleep tonight,” Abby interrupts.

She kisses her again and can't help but agree.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think!


End file.
